


The Heart of Me that was You

by SpecSeven



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Hera Syndulla Needs A Hug, Hurt, Loss, Ouch, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnant Hera Syndulla, Tears, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecSeven/pseuds/SpecSeven
Summary: Devastated by Kanan's death and Ezra's disappearance, Hera must face her grief.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	The Heart of Me that was You

“General Syndulla, the Commander-in-Chief would like to speak with you.”

Hera looked up from her workstation, focusing her exhausted eyes on one of Mon Mothma’s assistants standing nearby. She nodded and glanced at the nearest chrono- four hours had passed since her last break. Among her many other tasks, she’d spent as much time as she dared searching for Ezra. She was in frequent contact with Hondo, Vizago and anyone else who might have any information on Ezra’s whereabouts or sightings of the _Chimaera_. There had been no word. No word at all, for months- but she refused to give up on him. 

“Should I let her know you’re on your way?” the assistant asked, sounding weary and exasperated.

“Please do,” Hera mumbled, rubbing her dry eyes. She heard Mothma’s assistant turn and leave. 

The large Situation Room, usually bustling with activity, had quieted significantly. There were a few officers still tapping away at their consoles, but almost everyone else had retired to the barracks for the night. She stood, feeling just a bit lightheaded as she straightened her tunic over her burgeoning belly. One of the other officers glanced over at her and then looked away. 

No one knew what to say to her, so they avoided saying anything at all- at least, nothing personal. That was just fine with her- she didn’t want their pity or their faltering attempts at small talk. She sighed deeply and walked out of the Situation Room and across the main hangar toward Mon Mothma’s office. When she reached it, she found the door open. 

“Come in, General,” Mon Mothma called. “Please close the door behind you.”

Hera did as instructed. Mon Mothma was sitting behind her desk, her red hair the only splash of color in the brightly lit, sparsely furnished room. “Hello, Commander,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“How are you, Hera?”

The use of Hera’s name, as opposed to her title, threw her off. This was a personal chat, evidently. “I’m fine,” she replied, in a curt tone she had not intended. 

“You _look_ exhausted. I know you've been working relentlessly for weeks now, with very little rest. You eat rarely. You speak only when necessary. Tell me again- and let it be the truth this time- how are you?”

Hera stared at Mon Mothma, and Mon Mothma stared back. _I’m not fine_ , she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. When the sun rose on Yavin IV in a few hours, it would mark the four month anniversary of the last day of Kanan’s life. She closed her eyes and saw flames...always flames. Something inside her broke for the first time- or maybe for the millionth time- there was no difference, and it didn’t matter. There was never anything but pain.

“I’m not fine,” she whispered finally, clenching her hands into fists. The tears stung as they welled up behind her closed eyelids and began to slide down her cheeks.

“Please, sit down,” Mon said in a soft voice. "Before you fall down." Hera opened her eyes to see Mon pointing at one of the chairs situated in front of her desk.

She wiped roughly at her face and sat. Her emotional state had been in chaos since finding out that a life grew within her- a life that had somehow survived torture and devastating heartbreak. Meanwhile, her mind still struggled to process what could not be processed, playing the moment of comprehension over and over in an agonizing loop. 

_“You are pregnant, General."_

_Hera turned her head to stare at the medical droid, certain she must have misheard. “Excuse me?”_

_“You are pregnant,” the droid repeated, its optical sensors glowing with a soft yellow light intended to be soothing. It was not soothing._

_She heard the sudden pounding rush of blood in her earcones. “That’s not even what I was brought in for,” she said, stupidly._

_“You fainted, General. A pregnancy test is a standard part of the workup for a female Twi’lek who has lost consciousness for unknown reasons.”_

_Hera stared at the droid and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “I’ve been under a lot of stress...it must be something else..it_ has _to be something else. Is there any way it could be wrong? A...false positive?”_

_“This is a blood test, so it is unlikely to be a false positive. However, I will be happy to run the test again if you would like.”_

_“Yes. Please.”_

_“It will only take a few seconds,” the droid said, taking a new sample from her. Hera sat on the edge of the examination table, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The med droid’s little device beeped._

_“The results are the same. You are pregnant, General.”_

_Hera could hear herself breathing, panting, the sound permeating her senses as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel the thrum of her blood in her veins, rushing to feed her faltering heart. Her vision tunneled, darkened at the edges. She saw fire, and the heat singed her face again as the man she loved was engulfed in a brilliant, deafening explosion. She screamed his name, reaching out- and the medical droid barely caught her before she toppled from the table._

As it administered a mild sedative, the droid had told her that the flashbacks she'd been experiencing were due to post-traumatic stress. She had never been one to complain about her lot in life, especially not with so many people in the galaxy much worse off than she. But the situation seemed too much for any one person to bear- and she had no choice but to find a way to bear it. She’d thrown herself into her work to avoid dealing with the whirl of anger and regret and pain and sadness, burying it within her to grow and churn in her belly alongside the child she never expected and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted. She had fooled herself into believing that she was succeeding, in some way at least, as she dragged herself through each new day. But Mon Mothma’s calm, mild, blue-eyed gaze had managed to pull her apart at the seams with hardly any effort at all. She felt so fragile, so brittle, so ready to shatter into millions of tiny, jagged pieces. She did not know this version of herself, and it terrified her. 

“The child- is it the Jedi’s?” Mon asked. 

Hera nodded slowly as fresh pain bloomed in her heart. Everyone already knew, so why hide it? “I...we never planned for anything like this. I never wanted it...never even thought about it. Neither of us wanted to bring another life into the galaxy just to be crushed under the Empire’s boot. But now it’s a reality, and I...don’t know what to do.” 

“You are trying to endure the unendurable,” Mon said in a low tone. “The loss of your partner is devastating enough on its own. The disappearance of Ezra Bridger doubly so. I cannot imagine what it must be like to face motherhood under such circumstances. And if that were not enough, you have been a general for such a short time- and we all face the growing certainty of a galactic civil war. So much has been expected of you. It is no wonder at all that you are struggling.” Mon bowed her head for a moment, her hands clasped on the desk in front of her. “But I need you, Hera. I need all of my generals at their best.”

Hera buried her face in her hands. She was ashamed to be seen so by her Commander-in-Chief, but she couldn’t help it. The past four months _had_ been unendurable. She had faced horrible loss as a young girl- the loss of her mother and brother, the loss of her father via his fanaticism and neglect. Her crew- her _family_ \- had made her whole again, and as much as she’d been reluctant to admit it at the time, Kanan had been at the heart of it all. Where she’d always been the one to keep the crew going, keep them on task, keep them focused- Kanan had been the one who truly brought them together and made them feel like a family. The bonds he had forged with each of them ran deep. With him and Ezra gone, nothing could be the same. Sabine, Zeb, Rex- they weren’t the kind of people who talked about their feelings. But even if they had been, she couldn’t imagine letting them see her like this, when she was the one they’d always counted on to keep it all together. Even if she had been willing to let her family see the true depth of her pain, she knew they would never have been able to find the right words to say to her- the words she needed to hear. 

But Mon Mothma could. “I need _you_ at your best,” she said. 

Hera pulled her hands away from her face and stared at the floor. “Four months ago, I could have given it to you. Now? I don’t know. It’s impossible to give anyone your best when you’re at your worst.”

Mon sighed. “I watched the recording of the medal ceremony after the fact, you know. My aides like to review my speeches- they think it will improve my oratory skills. I have to tell you- I’m not terribly keen on it. But _that_ speech went entirely by the wayside. I couldn't take my eyes off of you, Hera. You stood in front of that enormous crowd and accepted the medal of bravery on behalf of your fallen partner with dry eyes and your head held high. I couldn’t help but marvel at your courage, especially so soon after everything that happened on Lothal. You are a born leader, made of solid durasteel.”

“I don’t remember much about that,” Hera muttered. “The only thing I remember is wanting to scream at the top of my lungs.”

“But you didn’t. You got through it, somehow. And that is what a true leader does.”

“I don’t think I can do it alone,” Hera said, her voice rough. “Without him by my side.”

Mon Mothma winced at the pain in her voice. “You were together a long time, I believe?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard, trying to clear the lump in her throat. “Ten years. We were just kids when we met, about the same age as Ezra and Sabine.” In her mind’s eye, she saw Kanan as he’d looked when she first saw him on Gorse: unruly hair and a smirk, a charming roughneck who spent more time drunk than he did sober. 

“What do you think Kanan would want you to do now?”

She sniffled, tears stinging her eyes once again. “He wouldn’t want me to give up. But that would be easy for _him_ to say. _He’s_ not here to deal with all of this.” She felt a sudden, very irrational flash of fury towards Kanan. 

“You’re angry with him.” Mon stated it more as a fact than a question.

“If he hadn’t come to rescue me, if he hadn’t decided to go to the fuel depot, he’d still be alive,” Hera growled.

“And you would very likely be dead.”

“Maybe that’s what I deserve. Why am I alive and not him? I'm not the one who was a Jedi. I'm not the one who was valuable. If I had just listened to him, if I had just...stopped _for a second_ to appreciate what I had…” her voice diminished to a near-whisper “...maybe he’d be alive now.”

“It’s not _Kanan_ you’re angry with, then.”

For a long moment, Hera didn’t respond. Finally, she let out a shuddering sigh. “No. Of course not. It’s me.”

Mon gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Everything you’re feeling is normal, Hera.”

“That’s good, because I’ve never felt less normal in my life.”

“Have you thought at all about what you’ll do when the child comes?”

She shook her head. She’d been trying not to think at all of the tiny, tenacious creature inside her, afraid of what it might do to her fragile state of mind if she dwelled too long on the idea- but it was more than an _idea_. In far too short a period of time, there would be a child- a living, breathing infant that relied on her for everything it needed- that required love she wasn’t sure she could give. 

_Of course you will,_ she told herself. _Don’t be ridiculous. This is all there is left of Kanan._ And she would- for Kanan, and for the sake of the child. She would do everything she was supposed to do, and more. But how would _she_ feel? She still didn’t know. 

“What of the possibility that the child might be Force-sensitive?” Mon asked. Her usual calm expression gave way to surprise when she saw the look on Hera’s face- she clearly had not believed she was dropping a bomb into the middle of an already very fraught conversation.

“ _What?_ ” Hera demanded, as her hands began to shake in her lap. 

Mon’s eyes widened in horror at her mistake. “Oh. Oh, I see. You were not aware that there is a genetic component to Force-sensitivity.”

“No,” Hera replied, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “I was _not_ aware of that.” In truth, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind, due mainly to the fact that she'd been trying to avoid _any_ thoughts about the life growing inside her.

“Of course not,” Mon said ruefully. “How could you have known? It is likely Kanan did not know, either. It wasn’t common knowledge even in the days of the Republic, and of course the Jedi of that time were not allowed to have families. There was very little information available about such things, even to those within the Order.”

Hera wanted to ask how Mon Mothma knew something like that, but she decided against it- she knew Mon would be unlikely to reveal that information anyway, especially if it pertained to a surviving Jedi. Instead, she asked, “Do you know if it’s always passed on?”

“I am sorry to say that I do not. And...I’m deeply sorry to have distressed you further, Hera.”

Hera closed her eyes for a moment, trying to center herself as Kanan had once taught her, and she failed utterly. The small creature within her womb fluttered, as if it could sense her pain and fear, and she was seized by a sudden, wild panic. She opened her eyes again and looked directly at Mon Mothma. “You know what kinds of things were hunting Kanan and Ezra. You know that Force-sensitive children were being taken.”

“Yes,” Mon said, her expression grave. 

Hera let out a shaky breath. “What can I do?” 

“The Alliance can offer you protection-”

“It won’t be enough.”

“Yes. I understand that.”

“I need more help finding Ezra,” Hera said, wincing as she heard the desperation and pleading in her tone. “I need to find him.”

Mon’s expression was one of regret; they had been through this many times before. “Hera, you know we cannot spare resources like that to find one Jedi- especially not when we are constantly at risk of discovery. Aside from that, the purrgil may have taken Ezra beyond even the Unknown Regions-”

“I know- I know,” Hera interrupted. She sighed. “But without Ezra, there are no Jedi to stand against Vader and his Inquisitors, if there are any left. What hope do we have then?”

Mon looked alarmed, and Hera understood the feeling- she, too, was frightened by how little hope she felt at that moment. “I want you to take a leave of absence,” Mon announced.

Hera stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t do that right now- I have too much to do here- people are counting on me!”

“They will count on someone else in your stead.”

“But-”

“That’s an order, General.”

“What will I do?” Hera said, in a small voice.

“Whatever you need to do,” Mon Mothma said. “But if I may-”

“Yes?” Hera leaned forward in her chair, ready to cling to any shred of hope Mon Mothma could give her.

“I have a suggestion. I do not know if it will amount to anything, but...I have heard rumors of a pirate queen on Takodana who knows the Force. Perhaps she can assist you in some way.”

Hera sat up straight. She vaguely recalled Kanan mentioning a strange encounter with a strange being, many years ago on Takodana. He had been, unsurprisingly, very drunk during their meeting, but she remembered the tone of his voice- there was no doubt _something_ peculiar had transpired. "Do you know where I can find her?"

Mon shook her head. "I am afraid I don't know much. I have heard that she runs a cantina, but I do not know the location. Her name is Kanata, I believe."

"Kanata," Hera repeated. "Well, maybe it's worth a shot."

"I hope so," Mon said. "And I hope you won't see this leave of absence as anything other than what it is: time for you to process your grief and find your path forward. As I said, I need you at your best. And I would be a very poor leader if I asked that of you and failed to give you the tools you need to achieve it."

"Thank you, Commander," Hera said. She saw the wisdom in Mon Mothma's decision, even if the thought of not having work to turn to when the pain overwhelmed her was absolutely terrifying. 

"Best of luck, General. Your leave of absence starts as soon as you wrap up any loose ends. You are dismissed."

Hera stood and gave the Commander-in-Chief a nod. She turned and left the room- but rather than heading to the barracks, she walked across the hangar and out onto the tarmac, towards the _Ghost._

Sleeping aboard her ship had been... difficult. It was far too quiet, for one thing. But what hurt her the most was expecting to see Kanan, to hear his voice. His absence was too much to bear. She didn't understand how someone's _absence_ could feel like a constant, crushing weight on her, but that was exactly what it felt like.

That night, though, she wanted to be on her ship- _their_ ship. She walked down the corridor toward the cockpit and stopped when she reached his closed cabin door. 

What if she opened it, and he was there? Just for a moment, she entertained the whimsical idea of it all having been a terrible nightmare. Maybe she would open the door and he'd be lying in his bunk, head thrown back, snoring blissfully. She'd slide in beside him and try not to wake him, but she'd fail, as she always had. And he'd pull her close, fit her against the curve of his body and press his lips to her forehead. And she would tell him all the things she should have told him. She'd say, "I love you, Kanan. I've always loved you. I will always love you, to my very last breath." She would say indulgent, flowery, loving things- all the things she knew he'd longed to hear. 

It was a vivid daydream. But she shattered it herself by opening the door to his cabin. There was, of course, no Kanan there, blissfully snoring. It was cold and dark, and there was nothing to remind her of him. Tears slipped down her face, but she was only dimly aware of them as she made her way to the bunk where he'd slept. She sat on the edge. What the cabin lacked in physical reminders, it made up for in memories. So many memories. Some bad, but the vast majority were very, very good. 

The last time Kanan had slept there, though- if indeed he had slept at all- she had no doubt he'd been feeling something akin to what she was feeling now. He'd known all too well what she suffered as a captive of the Empire. 

"Why did you have to come for me?" she whispered to the darkness. 

But Hera knew why. Her death would have crushed him, the same way his death was crushing her now. She did not wish the pain she felt on anyone- especially not the one person she loved most. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, to know that at least he had been spared the anguish she felt. 

She curled up on the bunk. Once again, the tiny being in her womb fluttered. The reminder brought fresh pain with it- but this time, it was on behalf of the child she didn't know yet. The child who was half Kanan, and half her. 

She felt a tiny rootlet of affection dig into her sore heart. 

In the morning, she would leave for Takodana to search for a mysterious pirate queen. She would start to find the path forward. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure why I wrote this, but I think maybe it's a result of some long-repressed emotions over the Rebels finale. The ending didn't sit right with me for several reasons, and most of them had to do with Hera. 
> 
> Consider, if you will, what Hera was left to deal with at the end of the show:
> 
> \- her partner and love was dead, and she watched him die literally one minute after finally confessing her love for him  
> \- unplanned pregnancy with aforementioned dead partner  
> \- the possibility that the kid will be Force sensitive and thus hunted by the Empire  
> \- Ezra's disappearance- with a bunch of purgill, THRAWN, and an entire star destroyer full of Imperials  
> \- she's a newly-minted general  
> \- impending galactic civil war  
> \- oh, and let's not forget, she was fairly recently tortured by Pryce and Thrawn. 
> 
> That's...a lot. Even for Hera Syndulla. It almost feels like she's being punished for something. And of course we know that she (literally) soldiers on, but it's really hard to imagine anyone- even Hera Syndulla- going through all this devastation without a struggle. I'm glad that the show didn't skirt around her pain and fragility in the aftermath of Kanan's death. And maybe if it had JUST been a matter of dealing with that, it would be semi-believable that she just kept right on truckin'. But with the addition of Ezra and the pregnancy? Nah, I don't think so. Strong characters need to face trauma and hardship and persevere- but they should be allowed to struggle and be vulnerable and in pain. I doubt that she'll actually get anything like that in canon, and knowing that almost feels like a betrayal, because a character like Hera deserves better. She deserves to be written by a woman who cares about her *sips tea*. 
> 
> It also struck me as sort of poignant that Hera doesn't really have anyone to talk to, now. Mon Mothma became her sounding board because there weren't really any other options that felt right. But it does subtly underscore the fact that Hera's loss isn't just the loss of a lover. Kanan was her partner in every sense, and she feels his loss at a profound level. 
> 
> Star Wars is actually kind of depressing and full of horribly traumatized people, when you really think about it.


End file.
